Lockdown Walks- a poem

Rona Cracknell, Summer 2020

My solitary walks are in the local cemetery.

I read as I start walking – there’s a plaque beneath each tree:

“Aged 21”, “Killed on the Somme” or he was “Lost at sea”

Beyond this avenue of trees commemorating strife

Are further texts remembering a loving family life:

“Sacred to the memory of a beloved wife”

The graveyard’s on a hillside, the slope is fairly steep,

And where it flattens out, the tiny graves could make me weep:

“Our baby son”, “Aged 14 days” and many “Born asleep”

The family plots, so numerous, are oft engraved with rhyme

Extolling virtue, fortitude, perfection, love sublime –

And meek acceptance of a higher power ‘calling time’

They cling to a belief, a faith, thatdeath is not in vain,

“Gone to a better place”, “With God” “Our loss is Heaven’s gain”

I walk among these headstones, speaking love,concealing pain.

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